


Good Boy

by BullfinchsSinBin (Bullfinch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Inexperience, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/pseuds/BullfinchsSinBin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwatch days. Jesse can't help sneaking looks at Reyes in the locker room. Reyes takes notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

Jesse’s in the middle of his normal locker room routine of changing next to Reyes while trying not to get a boner when he hears, “You ever ride?”

Jesse jolts and looks up.

Reyes’s back is turned. He’s unzipping his jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders as he glances back. “You’re supposed to be a cowboy, right? You ever ride horses?”

His undershirt is nearly soaked through with sweat, stretched over his broad back. Jesse swallows and forces himself to focus. Is this…small talk? Reyes has been in a bad mood, his training methods starting to border on cruelty. And now he’s just shooting the shit? “Uh—yeah. A few times.” Jesse pulls his own jacket off, tossing it on the bench. “I mean, not for heists. But for fun.”

Reyes grunts and starts to unbuckle his belt.

Shit. Jesse swivels away and strips his undershirt over his head. “Why, you ride?” he blurts out, his voice not _quite_ cracking. One thing at a time. Boots now. Right.

A long exhale. “Family had a ranch just over the border. I helped out sometimes when I was young.” A dull rattle of metal, a pair of boots being tossed against the lockers. “Rode the horses, and fed and watered them, and brushed them when they needed it. But what I was _really_ good at was breaking them.”

Jesse freezes as his pants collapse down to his ankles.

“It’s not as harsh as it sounds,” Reyes says, and Jesse swears he can hear the smile. “Yeah, sometimes you have to yank on the lead a little, but if you do it right you don’t have to use any force at all.” Rustling. Jesse dares to glance over, finds Reyes sliding his pants down and stepping out of them, his black briefs clinging to his incredible ass, stretched to their limit over his hairy thighs.

He straightens and meets Jesse’s eyes— _fuck,_ how did he know? But he looks away again, grasping the hem of his undershirt. “You just have to be nice to them. Get them to trust you. Rub their necks, give them an apple or two. They won’t even fight when you put the bridle on them. Or the bit.” He peels the shirt off. His back ripples with muscle, his brown skin still flushed from training. “How about you, McCree?”

He turns.

Still in a bad mood. Definitely. Distant anger taut under those blunt, heavy features, but his gaze is perfectly steady. Jesse’s eyes skim down before he can help himself—fine hair curled damp against Reyes’s chest, sweat shining on his skin, in his briefs a heavy bulge—

Jesse yanks his eyes right back up to where they’re supposed to be. “I—what?”

“Do you like it?” Reyes asks.

“Do I like—what? Breaking horses?”

Reyes’s lips part. “Being broken.”

Jesse’s hard and knows Reyes has to see it. Is this real? In this locker room, right now? Of course he’s attracted to Reyes, _really_ attracted, and admires his skill in all areas of combat and melts a little on the inside at the smallest scrap of praise—but it would never actually _happen,_ Reyes would never _want_ him, except he does, apparently. But it’s only right now, Jesse has to seize this and say yes or he knows he’ll never get another chance. “Y—“ _Being broken._ Jesse tries again. “Y-y—“

Reyes’s lip curls and he shakes his head, exasperated. “You can get on your knees.”

Jesse scrambles to obey, kneeling on his crumpled pants. Reyes pulls down his briefs without ceremony—ah, fuck, he’s only half-hard and big already. He comes down and sits on the bench so Jesse turns, watches mesmerized as Reyes palms his dick. Not too long but damn, it’s _thick._

Reyes lifts it out of the way and leans back. “Lick my balls.”

Like the inflicting of a wound. Jesse flinches a little but leans forward.

Sweaty, as he expected, the taste of salt hitting his tongue as he drags it up Reyes’s scrotum, meeting the root of his dick. Jesse comes off, takes a breath, and leans in again for another tentative lick. _This can’t be happening,_ he thinks again, but it is, probably, because the heat radiating from Reyes’s crotch is warm on his cheeks—

A snarl from above. “Come on, _piruja,_ I know you can do better than that. Stop fucking around.”

Can he? He hasn’t done much before in this arena—sucked a couple dicks, that’s about it. But it can’t be _that_ hard. And anyway—he wants it, wants to bury his face in Reyes’s crotch, has fantasized about it for months and now it’s right in front of him.

Jesse plants one hand on Reyes’s muscular thigh and uses the other to guide one of Reyes’s balls into his mouth.

For a second he just holds it there, cupping it with his tongue, laving away the salty sweat. Then he sucks it gently, his lips locked tight to the soft skin, and rolls it around with his tongue. His dick throbs—he’d practically forgotten it existed what with the disbelief pounding in his head like a pistol hammer. Now he reaches down, fishes it out of his briefs and and squeezes it, shutting his eyes and moaning into Reyes’s sack as a warm flush of pleasure floods his groin.

A low chuckle. “How about both of them, cowboy?”

That sounds harder. But he doesn’t think, just uses his tongue and fingers, opens his lips—can’t quite get it, and Reyes’s foot taps impatiently beside him. He whines and tries again, opening up as wide as he can, and finally manages to pop the second inside.

His mouth is stuffed, cheeks bulging, and it’s hard to breathe with his lips stretched so tight around Reyes’s heavy sack. He inhales through his nose as his eyes skate up Reyes’s body (gentle rolls at his stomach, his pectorals thick with years of training, his nipples broad and dark)—meets his gaze, finally, spots the satisfied smile. Reyes jerks himself lazily. “Thought so.”

Jesse makes a muffled noise, tonguing Reyes’s sack as best he can with his mouth so damn full. Good. He did good. Reyes tips his head back as he strokes himself, leaving Jesse to kneel there keeping his balls warm and wet. Jesse’s own hand is moving wildly, and his hips roll against nothing.

Then Reyes releases his dick, letting it rest across Jesse’s face. The smell of sweat is sharp and immediate. He reaches down and combs fingers through Jesse’s hair. “All right. Let’s see what you can do.”

So Jesse squeezes Reyes’s balls out of his mouth and takes the head of his dick all in one smooth motion like he’s been waiting for it, which he has been, if he’s honest with himself. He bobs gently, letting himself settle into it, kneeling on the locker room floor at Reyes’s feet like he belongs here. Has he jacked off to a scene like this? Probably. Jacked off to a few like it. His favorite recently is one where he gets tired of this Blackwatch deal and tries to escape and Reyes runs him down, has him cornered with his pistols lost during the pursuit. Reyes holds a shotgun to his head, drags him up against a wall and fucks his mouth and then comes on his face, cuffing him so he can’t even wipe it off and then leaving him there for the other Blackwatch agents to find.

Yeah. That’s a good one.

Jesse sucks, closing his lips over the crown of Reyes’s dick as he works the rest with his hand. His tongue is trapped beneath the fat, firm head.

“Hope you’re ready, cowboy,” Reyes murmurs. “Because I’m going down your throat in a minute here.”

That tips him over, the confusion breaking over into momentary panic, and he pulls off, Reyes’s hand on the back of his head resisting him for just a second before it lets him go. “Wait,” he blurts out. “I don’t know if—I mean, you’re kinda big.”

Reyes lifts an eyebrow. Not angry—the anger’s gone, Jesse thinks, first time in months. Well, that’s something. “Do you want me to fuck your throat?”

 _Yes._ Obviously. There’s a lot Jesse jacks off to but that always shows up sooner or later, him coughing and gagging up spit while Reyes holds his head and uses him like a cheap toy, his face red and streaked with tears, saliva dripping from his chin.

Reyes is waiting. Jesse swallows. “Yeah.”

Reyes shrugs. “You can do it yourself if you want.”

Okay. Not a bad idea. That way he can set the pace. Jesse leans down, his lips parting over the tip of Reyes’s dick; he feels the firm ridge slide past and goes lower, until the tip is brushing the entrance to his throat. It’s too big. He knows that, knows it’s going to hurt.

He grips Reyes’s thighs and with effort drags himself forward.

It hurts, the stretched ache. He sits back immediately with a cough, careful of his teeth. But it’s possible, and he wants it (that image again, Reyes’s dick sliding in and out of his mouth, the slick sounds interspersed with his own gags and grunts). So he tries again, forces the head of Reyes’s dick into his throat— _really_ forces it, fuck, he’s thick—anticipates the ache this time and holds in spite of it, finds himself smiling with delight (as best he can with his mouth stuffed, anyways).

“Yeah, that’s it,” Reyes breathes. “Good boy.”

Jesse gags, his throat tightening, eyes stinging with tears. He was going to come off until Reyes called him that. Now he pushes himself forward, which also hurts, but he wants Reyes to like him, to know he’s good, to know he _wants_ to be good.

Jesse gets there, his lips just reaching the root of Reyes’s dick, before he gags again and it’s too much and he has to pull off, coughing into his shoulder. But there’s a hard grip in his hair all of a sudden, and Reyes yanks his his head back. Jesse gasps, caught off-guard—and there’s a thick finger in his mouth, and another, sliding over his tongue.

“Not bad, cowboy.” Reyes regards him with an appraising eye. “For a beginner.”

Jesse nods and lunges forward. The fingers slip into his throat, and he manages not to gag as he sucks them, his face contorting with the effort. Reyes’s expression opens up into amusement. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Jesse closes his lips and sucks, rocking back and forth, fellating the pair of fingers. He tastes gunpowder residue—metal and char.

Then Reyes sits back. “So how do you want to do this?” he asks conversationally. “I’ll let you take control, that’s fine, I don’t mind. Or we go the other way.”

Jesse wipes his mouth, his head spinning. Too fast. This is going too fast. But it has to be now. “The—the other—”

“I control you,” Reyes cuts in. “We go at my pace, not yours.” He takes Jesse’s face in one hand, his calloused thumb dragging over one cheekbone, pulling the skin taut. “So what’ll it be?”

 _My pace, not yours._ Jesse finds himself leaning into Reyes’s palm, nuzzling _(like a dog,_ he thinks, but his mind is scattered and the thought leaves him quickly). It would be smarter to go at his own speed. It would be easier, not as painful.

But that’s not what he’s been fantasizing about for God knows how long. So he takes a breath and makes his confession. “Use—use me.”

Reyes grins for the first time in what might be months and guides his dick between Jesse’s lips.

As promised, he takes control, gripping Jesse’s head with both hands. Jesse winces when the fat head pops into his throat, and his cough almost forces it out; but Reyes won’t have that and drags his head forward and he gags once, twice, thick saliva filling his mouth.

Reyes pulls out just enough for Jesse to gasp in a breath and then hauls him down again.

His pace is steady and relentless as he guides Jesse’s head up and down, fingers curled in his hair. It stops hurting as much, either that or Jesse’s just getting used to it. He isn’t getting used to the presence of that cockhead in his throat. The sounds of his gagging fill the locker room, and he grabs Reyes’s thigh, tries to push, to signal for some respite. He receives none. He can feel the hot flush in his cheeks and neck, and tears spill from his eyes. The viscous saliva only makes it harder to breathe; he can feel it bursting from his stretched lips every time he coughs, and it drips onto his bare chest, sliding warmly down his stomach.

Reyes groans. “Fuck, McCree, that’s tight.”

The little thrill inside his ribcage. _I’m doing good._ This time when Reyes pulls him down he pushes too, until his nose is buried in the dark, curly hair at Reyes’s crotch, still damp with sweat. _Fuck._ It’s too much, and he gags, saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth and collecting on his chin.

The pressure on the back of his head disappears but he stays. Gentle fingers combing through his hair. Reyes murmurs, “Oh, yeah, good boy. Stay there, right there.”

The next cough almost forces him off, but he wraps an arm around Reyes’s hips and jams his head back down, determined. He can be good. He can stay. He stifles a gag and wedges his tongue out, just managing to drag the tip up Reyes’s sack. Can’t see a thing anymore with his eyes all blurred with tears, but he tries anyway, looks up, finds Reyes looking right back at him. He swallows, his throat rippling around that thick shaft. There’s an ache in his chest from the lack of air. With distant curiosity he lets go of his dick and touches the front of his neck. There’s a swell there, not his Adam’s apple. That’s Reyes, bulging out his throat.

Some whispered curse in Spanish that Jesse doesn’t catch. “All right, come on, come on back up for me.”

His throat convulses and Reyes’s dick slides out of his mouth, yet more saliva spilling from his lips. He coughs, wiping his chin, blinking the tears from his eyes.

“Did you like that?” Reyes’s voice is rough with arousal. He’s jerking himself, his foreskin shining with spit. “Choking yourself on my dick?"

Jesse sniffles, nods fervently and opens his mouth again. Why is Reyes getting himself off? He should be using the willing mouth right in front of him—

—which he does, slamming straight into Jesse’s throat again.

Faster now, and his thrusts are shorter, his crown popping in and out of Jesse’s throat with each one. He tips his head back and lets out a long, harsh moan, the sound setting of a bloom of pleasure in Jesse’s groin; he reaches down and starts stroking himself again even as he winces at the battering of his throat. The quick motions are making the whole thing even messier. Strings of warm spit dangle from his chin and drizzle down onto his dick. Reyes hisses out another curse. He’s getting close. Jesse looks up because he wants to see this, Reyes’s eyes closed, brow knitted, lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. Then he grins suddenly and meets Jesse’s eyes. “Gonna come in your throat, cowboy. Hope you’re ready.”

Jesse moans in affirmation, the noise truncated by a grunt as he gags again. Then Reyes plunges in one last time.

All the way down, and his hips jerk up as he crushes Jesse into his crotch. Jesse’s eyes widen as his face is mashed against Reyes’s pubic hair—and then cum shoots into his throat.

He gags—can’t help it, and gags again, saliva erupting from his stretched lips, coating his chin and Reyes’s balls. The smell of cum fills his nose. But Reyes isn’t done, and he lets out a long, bone-deep groan, keeping Jesse jammed as deep down as he’ll go. Jesse struggles, trying to pull back just to stop himself from gagging again, but Reyes’s grip is iron. His throat tightens and he coughs up more thick spit. His face is smeared with it.

At last Reyes’s hand disappears and Jesse heaves himself back, gasping in air. He’s still jerking himself, somehow, doesn’t think he stopped even when Reyes’s dick was stuffed down his throat. Reyes stands up and stretches, starting to soften; he puts a hand on his hip and gazes down at Jesse. Jesse gazes back, his hand still moving.

Then Reyes grasps himself again. “I gotta piss. Stay there.”

Jesse has just enough time to process it—to understand—before the stream of piss hits him square in the chest.

He’s never been pissed on before. It’s warm—hot, even, flowing down his chest and stomach, coating his hand where it’s wrapped around his dick. He’s expecting the disgust—it’s _piss,_ he’s _covered_ in piss.

What he doesn’t expect is the shock of heat to his groin, searing and immediate, so overwhelming that it makes him buck his hips up and moan. He’s never been this aroused in his life. Reyes is still pissing, and it’s soaking into Jesse’s briefs, dripping down his thighs and onto the floor. Jesse’s hips move uncontrolled, and he thrusts into his hand, gazing up at Reyes with—something, need, maybe, a need to get off, a need to be pissed on, a need to be good. Reyes watches him right back, the stream still coming strong as ever. Jesse slides his legs out a little, offering himself.

Finally the flow starts to slacken and then falls off completely. Reyes shakes off the last few drops, which splash onto Jesse’s knee. Jesse’s breathing too fast but can’t slow down. His hand flies up and down, the pleasure starting to turn punishing.

Reyes steps back over the bench, goes to his locker, and begins picking his clothes up off the floor.

“Can I—” Jesse gasps. “Can I—come—”

Reyes shrugs his broad shoulders. “I don’t care. Do what you want.”

Jesse shuts his eyes and lets out a noise that might be a whimper and the orgasm takes him.

His back arches, his free hand planted on the floor behind him. Cum shoots out onto his middle, mixing with the piss still beaded in his stomach hair. His eyelids flutter, his vision bleary as he stares up at the fluorescent lights. _Reyes,_ he thinks, and _I was good._

When the surges of pleasure abate he hears the sound of water and turns. Reyes is gone, off taking a shower.

Slowly Jesse picks himself up off the floor, tucking his softening dick back into his piss-soaked briefs. He could use some cleaning up too.


End file.
